Set It Off Like Napalm
by Wingstar102
Summary: Our souls have caught on fire. Hotch/Garcia... Suggestive. And got the flippin' format fixed! Go me.


**Set It Off Like Napalm**

Disclaimer: Don't own these guys... You don't want to know what I'd do with them if I did. :)

Notes: Song is by Emarosa. Nine months after "Bones". Please review! I thrive off reviews.

* * *

Hotch knew, instinctively, that he was completely _out of his damn mind_, but he wasn't about to let this go on unresolved. It grated at his nerves and made sleeping practically impossible.

Why he thought that his office was a safe place to talk to her was beyond him.

They needed to sort this, whatever _this_ was, out before he broke under the strain of her presence. He couldn't afford to lose her, not over his stoic nature or the wrong-place-wrong-time slip of his tongue. Controlled encounter, that's what this situation called for.

And he was done with being afraid of his next breath. Done with the limbo that Haley's death had forced him into.

* * *

Penelope was afraid. He wanted to talk to her, no idea why. They had been dancing around each other for too long. The chance was fading so fast for them. _He_ had kept her waiting. She was finding it harder to be silent, the longer this _not-a-thing_ went on.

She couldn't decide whether she wanted him to say yes or no. She was even more scared to let this moment go. And, for some reason, her fantastic and quirky humor abandoned her, right when she felt she needed it most.

* * *

Hotch had asked her to come after everyone had left. She stood in the doorway, seemly as stuck as he was by this, their eyes locked. His conviction to answer her advances over the last few months failed him suddenly.

He knew what held him. He had chosen what course he would take with Penelope, long before this.

He was frozen because the burning that she had placed in his soul took off, turning into an inferno. Boiling his blood into ashes before he could dampen it enough to function again, barely contained.

He didn't understand why he had asked her to talk. The look they now shared said it all. They both knew where the line was, between professional with a behind-the-scenes and the _now or never_. She wasn't going to walk it and he didn't think he could cross it. Too much was at risk. A friend, partner in crime, confidant, family, co-worker, equal… He couldn't trust his judgment on this.

She watched the storm behind his eyes and nodded in understanding, deciding for them both, and beckoned him with the same gesture. Hotch might not trust himself, but he could trust Penelope. She hadn't failed him yet.

* * *

They didn't speak, the entire drive to her apartment. She didn't even ask about Jack, figuring that Hotch had called and asked Jessica, Jack's aunt, if he could pick Jack up tomorrow. Jessica never turned down those requests.

The storms in her heart truly faded, despite her earlier confidence, as he followed her up the stairs to her apartment. For a moment she missed them, a bittersweet feeling that she didn't expect to have, now that she had an answer to whether Hotch wanted her or not.

She barely had a chance to shut the door behind them before he had her up against it, almost overbearing in his haste. "Burn for me…" It was just a husky whisper against her mouth and Penelope wasn't even sure Hotch had said anything at all.

But she didn't have to burn, he made her. The last look she honestly remembered was hot, blazing. Made her feel like he had forced napalm down her throat, with a lit match to follow. Knew then, slowly spiraling inward, the mechanism of _their_ demise and unable to stop it. He guided her, Hotch unable to stop now that he started, Penelope not wanting this moment to end, to her bedroom.

Decided with open eyes that this _was _now or never…

_

* * *

_

He knew, with every movement of their bodies, of the terrifying intensity that seemed to have possessed him and had no idea where it came from. Hotch rode that intensity and felt exalted when she matched him with the most unbelievable ferocity, a side of her he had never seen. She made his body dance for her, the way the ancient Goddess was rumored to have done to Her supplicants.

When the dawn light finally crept into her bedroom, finding him curled into a tangle of arms and legs with Penelope, he thought the goddess she proclaimed herself to be might not be far off the mark. He was hesitant to wake her, but work was not something to be put off, not even by them.

Stepping off the elevator later that morning made up for it a little. Hotch kissed her there, not bothering to hide themselves, not bothering to keep secrets. Penelope left for her bunker and he didn't have to ask if she would be cursing work with every breath she took today. He pulled his work persona around himself, ready for whatever came, but not before telling a grinning Derek Morgan to go straight to hell as he walked past him.


End file.
